


An Opening

by spenceyburb



Category: The Interminables
Genre: Alternate Event, Edmund's pov, I don't know why I make Istvan sad, M/M, Paige Orwin is still the better writer, it hurts me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spenceyburb/pseuds/spenceyburb
Summary: Edmund and Istvan are in their final battle against the Susurration, aka- I sometimes imagine alternate things happening and how characters react. Here is one of them.





	An Opening

 

He held the chain in his hand, the last link that was the only thing separating Istvan from his freedom. The ground began to cease shaking and time, the time that was running out, shuddered to a halt.  A young man appeared in the distance, and Istvan froze as the figure stumbled towards them.  
“I thought I told you to go.”  
“Pista, I changed my mind.”  
Istvan turned his head in an expression of shame, for what? Edmund could not guess. Shame from his past? Shame from the secrets that he would always keep hidden no matter how close they became. Edmund knew his best friend, and he was a man who hid his history well.  
“Pista, please. I would.” The stranger reached out towards Istvan, fresh skin began to grow around the rotting bones of the doctor’s skeleton, clothing knitted itself around his body like a glove and burn wounds fizzled and became like new. There was a soft glow to his cheeks, but his eyebrows were knotted and forehead still creased. He still didn't look up. “I would do it for you. If you stayed.”  
Fingers crept up towards Istvan's face, the tips reaching nostalgic spots in the skin and rested there. They were not rejected.  
Edmund didn't know what to do, he held the knife in his hand, above the very last link of liberty, but he could not push downwards. One stroke was all it would take.  
Istvan took in a deep breath.  
Counted to ten.  
He slowly raised his eyes back up to the newcomer, dressed in 20th century garb with a pockmarked face and a pleading expression.  
“Peti.” A small, mumbling voice. No longer filled with the angst of two world wars, nor the pain of spending decades in captivity. Gone was the rough sarcasm of an old man, in his place was an innocent young doctor full of hope and love. It left Edmund breathless. “Peti,” Istvan embraced the fingertips resting on his cheeks and placed his own gently on top, “would you really, Peti?”  
And Edmund looked on in confusion as the man wrapped his arms around Istvan’s shoulders and caught his lips up in a delicate kiss.  
A fire raged on in the midst of the field. A mountain collapsed and shook the ground, creating a shockwave of immense power that dissipated into nothing almost immediately, but Edmund could not turn his gaze from the two embracing figures in front of him. He wouldn't have known how to begin.  
Wind swirled around Istvan's feet, collecting their bodies into it, lifting them up. It tore at the skin, ripping strips that immediately turned to dust when the touched air. The snowy effect was a sadistic masterpiece, but Edmund could not watch it happen.  
Not to his best friend.   
“Istvan! No!”   
He drove the knife down, one stroke and the chain link burst into a thousand tiny pieces.  
Wings unfurled.  
A creature of war screamed its blood curdling cry, tearing back at the sky and rising above the scene.  
The newcomer looked on and his body stretched, ripped open. Became something new.  
A monster climbed out of the bloody shell of a man. It leapt up towards the war to end all wars and the two began to battle.  
Edmund could feel his strength leaving him. His time was running out.  
He couldn't resist as his vision slowly faded and he collapsed to the ground.  
  
  


Istvan couldn't stop shaking when he held his best friend for the first and last time against his solid chest. This moment would never last.  
  
  


The two sat perched atop the sanctuary roof, gazing out at the sunset that stretched out over what used to be the Boston harbour. Neither spoke for a long time, but Edmund couldn't help but spare a long glance at this ghost of a man. A man who was once burned by a fire so hot, it made him live forever.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” If Edmund could have rested a reassuring hand on Istvan's shoulder at this moment, he would have done. His voice was a whisper. Do not startle the frightened horse.  
Istvan looked back, drawing his spectral eyes away from the blood red horizon.  
“Maybe someday.” He said.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In no way do I think this should replace what really happened, I just thought it would be interesting. I hope you do too. Istvan makes my heart feel pain, ALSO, please join our discord for the Interminables https://discord.gg/8H6Ays


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